I Hate You (Larry Stylinson) ✅

17. discomfort

Feb 24

Louis' POV

I nearly have a breakdown in the fucking grocery store when we get there.

My mind has been nothing but cloudy since the hospital — fuck it, it's probably been cloudy since the day I started this diet. But I really felt especially out of it in the hospital. It wasn't until the third day that I even began to feel a semblance of sanity, and even then my thoughts were pretty noisy and hard to follow.

Im not even sure if I can explain what my problem is. I guess Whenever I think about food, it's like I have a voice in my head screaming at me not to eat. It's just not just a replay of Harry's voice and comments like it used to be in the beginning - it's a real physical voice saying "no, don't have that, it'll make you fat!" Or "go do 100 sit-ups to make up for that." The doctors asked me if I was experiencing that type of stuff and of course I lied, but I guess I wasn't too good at hiding it because they diagnosed me anyways.

Diagnosis. Fuck that word. I hate the fucking sound of that. If you told me a few days ago that I had an eating disorder I would have laughed in your face and said I was perfectly fine. But when they showed me how bad my vitals were and I found out I had a fucking seizure, I knew that things were serious.

Im Not stupid. I knew I took things too far with the diet. The minute I couldn't bring myself to eat the fish and chips in the restaurant with Niall, I knew I was in a bad place. I knew I had lost control.

Control. That's what this whole thing was about to begin with, according to the therapist I was forced to talk to. I wanted to take control of my appearance after what Harry said, so much so that it turned into an obsession. It was never about Harry or my weight or any of it really. I just felt out of control with my job and family and life in general, and my weight was just one more issue that put me over the edge. I figured if I could at least control that, I would be doing something right.

Or at least that's the way she explained it to me in the hospital. I'm still not fucking sure what happened to me. I just know I was called fat and went from eating fish and chips to salads to nothing at all. And changed from exercising twice a week to twice a day.

I didn't realize how sick it could make me. I realized I was losing weight, fuck I was keeping track of it. And I experienced joint pain and I went through dizzy spells and I saw my hair fall out in the shower.

I guess deep down I knew it was because I wasn't eating, but I just kept making excuses. Stress. Not enough sleep. A coincidence.

It was never a coincidence though. Never.

But after a while, it didn't matter. It was an obsession, and it sucked me in like a black fucking hole. I was spiraling, and after just a few weeks, the thought of even eating a morsel of bread sickened me to my core.

The whole time though, I thought I was doing something right. I thought I was bettering myself, purifying myself even. I thought I was on top of the world, but eventually I came crashing down, hitting past my lowest point and nosediving to rock bottom.

Within this whole mess, my relationships got extremely fucked up as well. I started lashing out at everyone, especially Harry, who's the one that caused this entire situation.

Don't even fucking ask me what crossed my mind when I fucked Harry. I can honestly tell you I wasn't thinking. Not at all. It was pure instinct that took over when I decided to have sex with him, and I'm not even ashamed about it.

I've been thinking about harry for a while, ever since our dance in the night club. I know I'm supposed to hate him, and technically a part of him still does, but the more intimate I've gotten with him, the more I've begun to latch onto him like a leach. And now I can't let go.